Behind The Mask
by Lollipop456
Summary: WARNING: Possible Mary-Sue.  Walter Kovacs is placed in a mental hospital, and his doctor, Nola Armstrong, not only reaches into his dark past, but develops feelings for her mysterious patient. Together, they search for the men who destroyed New York.
1. Chapter 1

Doctor Nola Armstrong made her way down the empty hallway; with the only sound being her high heels clicking against the tiled floor. From behind their cell doors, inmates watched her with hard, staring eyes.

"Ah, Doctor Armstrong!" A European-accented voice called out.

Nola could see a stout, bearded gentleman approaching her. She recognized him as Doctor George Schmidt, her colleague and the very man who asked her to come to the San Fransisco Institute for Mental Health.

"Doctor Schmidt, it's wonderful to see you." Nola extended her hand to Doctor Schmidt.

Doctor Schmidt took Nola's hand and shook it gently. "The feeling is mutual, my dear. I'm sorry to call you on short notice. I trust that I'm not taking you away from anything important."

Nola shrugged slightly. "Not at all. Doctor Smith is caring for my patients while I'm away, and he is one of the finest psychiatrist at my practice."

Nola ran a large practice for recovering mental patients and victims of severe mental trauma, just on the outskirts of San Fransisco. Over the last few months, the practice had waves of patients rolling in ever since a bomb had gone off in New York, killing millions and leaving thousands traumatized and injured. Because all the hospitals were destroyed, the survivors of the bombing were scattered all over the country to receive both physical and mental treatment.

"Well, I wouldn't have sent for you without good cause. Please follow me."

Nola followed Doctor Schmidt to one of the cell doors. She had to stand on her tiptoes to peek through the small window; sitting inside the cell was a redheaded man, clothed in white. He seemed to be drawing something, but Nola couldn't make out what it was.

"How long has he been here?" Nola asked, planting her feet back on the ground.

"Only two weeks. He was found walking naked around the streets, with some sort of mask in his hand. He was shouting about the bomb in New York and Adrian Veidt."

"Adrian Veidt? The founder of Veidt Industries?" Nola asked.

"The very same. I'm sure you've heard that Mr. Veidt has been missing for sometime?" Doctor Schmidt said, and Nola nodded in response. "We have tried to explain to the patient that Mr. Veidt has been missing and his disappearance around the timing of the bombing is nothing but coincidence." Doctor Schmidt continued.

"But he still insists." Nola said.

"Yes. What else is concerning is the mask that he was carrying with him. When the orderlies attempted to take it from him, he began screaming that they were taking his face. It was like something one would see out of a horror movie."

Nola sighed and folded her arms. "Perhaps he is like my own patients at my practice. He might be suffering from post-traumatic-stress disorder. I know it's a recent illness, only six years old, but many suffer from it. Not just the bombing victims are diagnosed...Soldiers from 'Nam, children even who have seen all the chaos on the evening news."

Doctor Schmidt ran a hand through his graying hair. "You're right, it could possibly be post-traumatic stress. However, I do have a theory."

"Which is?"

"Schizophrenia." Doctor Schmidt said simply.

Nola felt her eyes widened. "Schizophrenia?" She repeated. "Are you sure you aren't jumping to conclusions?"

"I hope that I am, Doctor Armstrong. That is why I was hoping you would help me with this case. The patient is not willing to speak to us, believing that we only want to strap him into a straitjacket. Help us to earn his trust, observe him and see what you can find. You're a very good psychiatrist, Nola, and I'm sure you can see what we missed."

"Do you have the patient's file?"

"Yes, right here."

Doctor Schmidt handed Nola a small file that he kept tucked under his arm. Nola opened it and read the first page:

PATIENT'S SURNAME: KOVACS. MIDDLE INITIAL: J. PATIENT'S FIRST NAME: WALTER


	2. Chapter 2

Quietly, Nola stepped into the room. Walter did not look up at her, just kept his focus on whatever he was drawing.

"Hello, Mr. Kovacs." Nola said.

Walter looked up at her for a moment, studied her, and then continued with his drawing. Nola sighed and grabbed a chair, sitting herself in front of him.

"My name is Nola Armstrong. I'm going to be your doctor during your stay here."

"You mean my shrink." Walter said, still not looking up.

Nola sat up straight and leaned back in the chair. "Yes, I'm a psychiatrist."

"I'm no idiot, Doctor Armstrong. I know where I am, and I know what everyone here thinks."

"Well, what do we think?"

Finally, Walter looked up and looked Nola straight in the eyes. "That I'm crazy. That what I've been saying about Veidt and the bomb is something I made up in my deranged mind."

"Mr. Kovacs, I do not think you're crazy. I only believe that I'm psychiatrist speaking with a man who needs some help because he's sick."

"You make a very convincing liar, doc."

Walter turned his attention to his drawing again, and Nola leaned forward to try and get a better look.

"Are you an artist?" Nola asked.

Walter shrugged. "What else is there to do?"

"May I see what you've drawn?"

Walter reluctantly handed his drawing over to Nola. She looked at him briefly and then back at the drawing. Or what seemed to be a drawing; all that was on the paper was blots of ink.

"It's nothing but blots of-" Something clicked in Nola's mind. "It reminds me of a test that we administered to our patients. We call it the Rorschach test. Usually, we use it to determine how a person is functioning on an emotional level and to get a glimpse at their personality-"

"I know what it is. That's what I drew." Walter cut in.

"Well, that certainly is fascinating. Why did you choose to draw the Rorschach test?" Nola asked.

"Because I miss my face."

Nola arched her eyebrow. "Your face? What are you talking about?"

"Why should it matter? I'm a psycho, right?"

Nola sighed. "In honesty, my colleague thinks you have schizophrenia. I don't believe that. I know you might have secrets, and can be somewhat stubborn, but do I think that you're crazy? No. You aren't crazy, you just need help. I would like to help you, Mr. Kovacs."

After a moment, Walter looked up at Nola and nodded his head. "All right, I'll tell you. When your "friends" found me and took me here, I was carrying a mask. They took it from me. To some, it wouldn't seem like a big deal, it's just something to hide your face with. But that mask was my face. It was part of me, and has been since I can remember. They didn't take a mask from me, they took my identity."

"But why is your...face...so important to you? Why do you want to hide?"

"Because of pity for the universe. Because everyone is a liar, or a killer, or a rapist, or a junkie, or a crook. The few that aren't, and I have known a couple of them, I applaud them."

Nola leaned forward again. "Mr. Kovacs, why do you have such a low opinion of humanity? What happened?"

"Kitty."

Nola leaned back in her chair again and crossed her legs. "Who is Kitty?" She asked, at least she was beginning to get somewhere.

"Kitty Genovese. I'm sure you've heard of her in the papers."

"Yes, I do recall the tragedy. I was about 13 at the time that it had happened."

Walter gave a small nod. "You wonder why I'm not fond of humanity? Because she screamed. She screamed and everyone just blocked her out."


	3. Chapter 3

Once Nola finished speaking to Walter, she went to Doctor Schmidt's office and found him seated behind his desk. He looked up and smiled, pointing to a seat in front of him.

"Well, how was your evaluation?" Doctor Schmidt asked.

Nola sighed. "Well, he does not have schizophrenia."

"You sound so sure."

"He remained coherent during the entire interview. He never became distracted, suffered no hallucinations, and his working memory is splendid. This being said, I must make a request on behalf of the patient."

"Which is?"

Nola leaned back in her chair. "I want you to give him his mask back."

Doctor Schmidt chuckled. "That is an unusual request."

"I'm serious. I believe it could really help in his recovery."

Doctor Schmidt began to frown when he realized that Nola was indeed serious. He folded his arms and leaned back in his chair.

"Doctor Armstrong, this could seriously set back Mr. Kovacs' progress."

"No, it will aid in his progress. As far as he is concerned, the mask is his face. He feels uncomfortable speaking with me, he feels exposed. Once he has opened up to me, I will attempt to persuade him that his mask is no longer needed and he can trust me. Then, when he has been weaned off the mask, I will show him that he can be just as open without the mask."

"You're a good doctor, Nola. Don't fuck this up."

Nola smiled. "I have no intention of doing that. Where's the mask?"

"Right here." Doctor Schmidt opened his desk drawer and handed Nola the mask.

Nola left the office and returned to Walter's room. He seemed to be asleep, so she laid the mask on the table next to his bed. She began to move quietly towards the door.

"Why?"

Nola looked over her shoulder and saw Walter was awake and starting to sit up. She turned back to him and shrugged her shoulders.

"You didn't deserve to have it taken from you. It was clear from my evaluation that you needed it back. So, I asked Doctor Schmidt."

"No catch?" Walter asked.

"Does there have to be one?"

"No one does something for nothing."

"Is that your philosophy?" Nola asked.

"No." Walter slipped his mask back on. "It's common knowledge."


End file.
